End’s meeting
by So Guhn
Summary: I'll see you there. lelouch x C.C. warning, deathfic.


_End's meeting_ **; PG13 - drama/angst/romance - Lelouch x C.C.**

Her hair is not the shade of grass, but brighter, distilled, like holding up that dark leaf to the shining sun. That colour, Jeremiah thinks, is what her hair is like. The woman known as C.C. she looks past him but is looking at him, through him, solid. He is here to-

She knows, she knows where his loyalties lie, she knows his hopes, his desires, the aspiration he holds for that boy, that man, not Zero, falsely, truly Zero- what he holds for Lelouch vi Britannia was what she only similarly holds, and does not. Her hands folded firstly about her and not, so much used to hanging loosely at her sides.

"The Emperor of Britannia you said?" she says to him, what he has told her he thought Lelouch must rightfully be when it is all over, the fight. She does not seem to agree though he had thought she would, for she fights by his side. But why he fights and why other's fight, it is different.

"That is not enough for that boy."

Fading fast, not dying beneath the light, even under the moon her hair- that scimitar smile, he has been taught that clever women use poison, but C.C. is as direct as a knife pointing forward and upward.

"I do not think," looking behind him, she does, over the shoulder- "the very world would be."

--

They tried to stop her.

Her feet quick upon the marble, centuries existed for this moment; she would not let him go yet. They are partners in this, contractors, for him to fulfill her wish she must fulfill his first (and it has tangled loosely over the bout of sea, drowning and caught as seaweed does to the invisible being of a predator, it hangs not onto the dark or the light (what he desires first birthed in the apparition of another's wish, his most treasured, precious person's wish to the wish of other's and a country, and the world, but what was _his_? And she'll say it more loudly than anyone-) "Lelouch!"

Not Zero, not your majesty, not brother, not friend, not the past or the present or the future, just his name, it is who he his. It does not matter what it means, who has chosen it, it is his name, and she does call it loudly, as expected the water from the lake hitches over and gives way from illusion to reality. She runs, splashing steps, the inferno of waves trying to swallow him, its ankle deep, a stride faltering yet struggling, waist deep, her arms scissoring back and forth, not yet, to her chest, her chin, trying not to cry out over and over-

-until she reaches him, pulling, grabbing his hand and holding as steadfast within this white white tall room that mocks heaven and should have never been found on earth, no longer a groove, no longer within the forest, taken from natural obscenities it is obscure. C.C. grips with both hands, pulling his wrist now, "Lelouch!"

It is only in the water her hair looks darker, as does his, her throat hurts as anxiety grips it, has she ever been more afraid? She probably has and just cannot remember.

But the lake swallows him any way.

--

When she catches him. It is at the pinnacle of infinity, water rushing down their backs on pearly steps, the afterlife does not look like this. She holds his hand and his head about her lap, never and always to let go. He has come back because he has refused every offer the other devil could offer, and she knows what comes after (a fate his mother too pursued) to die. She holds up his right hand in hers, if something streams down her face it is only premature.

"C.C.-" and catching, as if it is right and utterly right to call her this, "Sorry."

She shakes her head, a feel of strain and anxiety coming up and choking, at her throat- a lump, a coal. She will see him to the end, she swore him this, they are after all-

-his dark hair about his eyes, about that eye, geass. The Power of the King. Kings, and all those who wage war, and immerge from the bloodbath that is their destiny- they stare into hers, (like cat's, yellow, cats have always been akin to witches) her breath won't come out because- "I could not fulfill our contract."

("You wish, what is it?")

She can tell him now.

"It's alright, Lelouch-"

Her hair looks darker (the water) and dripping falling past his cheek, his smile- there are footsteps, ripples in the water, evenly shallow into its descent from here. Even if it crashes to the very center of the earth, she will stay besides him. Exchanging words with that former Knight, Japan is free, Japan is captured. That homeland that Suzaku had abandoned, Lelouch asks him to take it all again, that's all he can do now, like those footsteps, echo.

He leaves, C.C. watches his back, people change, and then they do not. She has changed, yet she is still- as if there is something in his throat, he asks her.

"My sister, Nunnally. Take care of her," his hand gripping at hers, it is not last breath, only assurance, you'll do this you can do this do this for me please just this final and only- C.C., his last companion, his only real partner in this world as Lelouch, as Zero, as what was- her lips forming one word, looking on with a crease about her brow that marks too much tenderness, "Yes."

They sit with the other like this for a long time's passing, as if to fall asleep with the other, until he cannot stand it any longer.

Finally, searching, needy- "But what was it?"

He will not leave this world for the next until she tells him, she never thought she would have to face this day and know that when it is over he will not be there. She has been too confident, she had been sure that this time one of hers would emerge and _live_ but, she has been cheated and caught many times, too many for that to ever come true. She shall give up because he will and must be her last. Ages passing, the immortal witch holds his hand against her face. Her wish was only, "I didn't want to be alone."

Contemplation, the widening eyes, a shadow against the iris, realization and- "That was all?"

She nods, hot wet (droplets) catching about his fingers, his gloves not on him, the cape, the mask, just the remnant of 0 remains. He brushes those wet fingers against her cheek, as if to say that that is the wish of every one on this earth and it is not one easily granted. (The bond of siblings, so beautiful, you are not alone. C.C. is-) and he holds it there, she almost catches his wrist, "I don't want to leave you."

The last word that comes from his mouth is her name.

It is not enough- she wants to say, it has been too much, she has seen, lived, tasted, felt many things in her stay, yet it is all still the same, when another parts all over again the heart is torn, and because he is he, and has been her hope, her wish, it is all the more worse. She cradles his head against her, curling her body forward; perhaps she had expected this, even if it had been but a little. Despite that they had gone farther than any, she also thought (again it will happen). She cried less each time, but as if to compensate, she is losing that which is called composure. She should grieve, it is her place as the one who survives (always, always) to grieve. Besides, he had been to her- her face is so wet, and it feels odd with the rushing water, cold colder, getting ever stronger- at her back, it will devour them both and only one would be digested. It cannot be her.

(Though vainly, she wishes. All over.)

Only one, but she will be there to the end, for there is no one here but her (it has always been-) and weaving her fingers about his lax hand, bends about forward, liquidly, to kiss him (one last) a hand covering over half lidded eyes to close them shut (the geass vanished from the eye, gone) and it is not his name she utters but rather farewell (and all those other wishes she could never say aloud). Holding him still when minutes later the water reaches his ears, her hips- later she'll just have to tell Marianne that she had had romantic thoughts in the end.

Because this is not a dream, and she is still dreaming.


End file.
